THREE
The boat I’m in starts to rock, the gentle motion growing more violent as the waves around me crash over the sides, stealing my oars and pushing me further out to sea. Sweat peppers my brow, my hands fat and hot with panic, and my heart racing at the sheer thought of being knocked over the side.
“Amelia. Wake up, honey.”
I jolt against the seat, ignoring the fact a nurse I’ve never seen before now stands over me, and look for Briar.
He’s not in the play area. He’s not on any of the seats. He’s gone. No way.
“Oh my God.” I push out of the seat, forcing the nurse backward. “Where is he?”
“Who?”
“The kid!” I damn near shriek.
A couple of people waiting in the lounge area eye me cautiously. Shaking off my coat to try and cool the hell down, I mentally count to five before I explain in a more controlled tone. “My nephew, Briar. He was here….” I check my watch. “Damn it! How long was I asleep?”
“The officer with you took Briar to get something to eat,” she explains, eyeing me cautiously with a frown.
The officer. Of course. Evan. Calm the fuck down, Mimi.
“Thank you. I’m sorry, I-I’m a little disorientated. I must have woken up too fast or—”
“We have news on your sister.”
“You do?” My knees give out, and I sit on the seat opposite where I’d been sleeping.
“Are you able to come with me?”
“But Briar—”
“Is fine with Officer North.”
Officer North. Hearing him addressed so formally—the boy I snuck raspberry liquorice out of the supermarket with as a teen—just seems … odd. “Okay.”
I gather my things up, and the older nurse guides me down the halls, back towards trauma, all the while explaining there was a shift change in the time I’ve been out. I haven’t the slightest clue why I fell asleep, other than the ridiculously long hours I worked to get the Fillersons’ weekend retreat home ready for their daughter’s twenty-first celebrations. The customers demand, I jump. It’s how the arrangement works when their purse is so damn large.
The nurse guides me into an office that seemingly doubles as an examination room. Judging by the clear surface of the desk, yet piles of folders and textbooks on the shelves, I’d say several doctors share this room. It’s small, stuffy, and already I’m plotting how I can get out as quickly as I can.
“The doctor will be with you soon.” Nurse Jolly-and-kind departs, leaving me with nothing but sheer, utter silence.
I lapse into a kind of trance, running my gaze over the taps on the wall, trying my best to guess what each one is for. Oxygen, laughing gas, don’t know, why is that one even there—
“Ms Harris?”
“Please,” I say, closing my eyes. “Call me Amelia.” Ms Harris reminds me too much of Mum, and right now I’m anything but her usual composed and sensible self.
I just want to go home. Alone.
“I’m Dr Jessup.”
I open my eyes and find a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair standing before me, hand outstretched.
I oblige and shake. He smiles softly and takes his seat.
“Your sister, Katherine, suffered a severe blow to the head in her accident.” He pauses to assess me, his eyes hard and critical as he waits for the reaction that’ll never come. I care, but it doesn’t run so deep as to upset me. With a frown, he continues. “We’re not sure, but we think she may have ricocheted between the door pillar and the steering wheel with the force of the side impact.”
I jam my hands between my knees, back ramrod straight as I hear him out.
“There was some bleeding that we managed to stem, with difficulty, but the extent of the damage won’t be known until we can run a few more tests. As of now, she’s slowly being brought out of sedation, but if there are any unfavourable signs she’ll be put under again to let the brain heal without added strain.”
“Okay.” My voice is small, even in such a tiny room.
He looks at me a moment, in that assessing sympathetic way only trained practitioners can, and frowns again. “I understand this must be hard—”
“I’m sure you’re doing everything you can.”
His expression loses the softness after my interruption. “We are, but as I was saying, if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Sure.”
“Do you have any now?” He picks up a stray pen and starts wiggling it between his fingers at breakneck speed.
“I don’t think so.”
“How long we expect to have her in Acute Care?” The pen slips from his erratic hold. “What the long-term prognosis is?” He retrieves it and slams it down on the desk beneath his palm. “If you can see her?”
Floor, swallow me now. “We aren’t close,” I whimper pathetically.
“Clearly.”
His scathing, judgemental attitude irks me the longer he stares me down like I’m a petulant student. “In response to your earlier statement, yes, I am finding this hard. But no, not for the usual reasons,” I snap. “And I’d appreciate if you could reserve your judgement for a more appropriate time.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain,” he states, suddenly calm. “I’ve seen this before: siblings who don’t get along, estranged parents and children, separated couples.” He sighs, reclining in his seat and crossing one ankle to the opposite knee. “But one thing reigns true in each and every situation.”
“And what would that be?”
“Everybody cares deep down, and they all end up with regrets if they let differences stand in the way.” He eyes me, lips pressed in a thin line as he pushes out of the seat to stand. “Come on. I’ll take you to see her.”
Heat washes over me as my muscles go rigid. “I’d rather not.”
“Why?” He crosses his arms, looking down his nose at me.
“What can I do?” I say, tossing my hands in my lap with a bitter snort. “She’s out cold, right? She can’t talk, she can’t hear me, and she doesn’t know if I’m there or not.” Finding the stray thread on my jeans again, I roll the blue cotton between my forefinger and thumb. “My parents are on their way. They’ll visit when they get in.”
“Regardless of your situation, we often find patients respond well to the presence of a familiar voice—unconscious or not.”
“I have to take care of her son.”
He heaves a sigh, shaking his head as he moves for the door.
“What?” I snap, having had enough of his mightier-than-thou attitude. Who’s he to judge our situation?
“Nothing, Ms Harris.”
“There was clearly something.” I stand, purposefully moving past him so that it appears I was the one who wanted to leave this inane conversation first. “If you’re going to lecture me on relationships, then the least you can do is be honest with me.”
“It was your wording,” he says simply, holding the door open for me. “Run the sentence back through your mind and think it over. Katherine isn’t going anywhere in a hurry; she’ll be here when you’re ready to see her.”
I edge away from him into the corridor, one hand resting on the coat that’s slung over my arm. “Thank you for the information, Dr Jessup.”
He eyes me as I step away, hurrying back to the waiting area where I last saw Evan and Briar. His assumptions burn at my back as I push through a set of double doors to re-enter the safe, baby blue zone. “Run the sentence through your head.” I recall the conversation, replaying my sentence on a loop. “I have to take care of her son.” What the hell was he on about? “I have to take care of her son.” Is that not the truth? Do I not have the responsibility of caring for a nephew I never knew I had? Nephew. That’s it. That’s what he picked up on.
I said I had to take care of her son. Not “I should check on my nephew,” or, “My nephew needs me right now.” Nope. I made Briar’s care sound like a chore, like something I resent.
Do I? Am I that cold-hearted that I actually resent the fact I have to spend time with a blood relative?
“Hey,” Evan greets with a jerk of his chin.
He’s seated in one of the multicoloured armchairs, a takeaway coffee in hand as Briar leafs through a slightly torn comic book a small distance away.
“Hi.” I force a smile. “Thank you for taking care of him. They had an update for me.” I thumb over my shoulder at the direction I’ve come from.
“How is she?”
“Okay for now, I think.”
He frowns a little and brings the cup to his lips—his full, pale-pink-coloured lips. Focus, Mimi. “You think?”
“He wasn’t clear on the details. She’s sedated, they’re going to bring her out of it, but if things turn pear shape they’ll knock her out again.” I eye his loose top button, and the stab vest he’s removed and set down with his hat on the chair beside him. “You must need to get back to work, right?”
“My shift ended”—he checks his thickly banded watch—“twelve minutes ago.”
“Oh.” I cast my gaze to Briar, feeling the same shivers rip along my spine at the thought of having to interact, of having to explain everything.
Until now I’ve done a fine job of avoiding him, using Evan as a buffer between the two of us. Briar stayed quiet after I first arrived, eyeing me every so often while he kept himself amused with the toys, some of which are far too young for him.
I should have made more effort, said something, yet the thought of putting in that much effort left me tired before I even started. Until a few hours ago I had no idea he even existed—what the hell do I say to kick things off? “Do you know who I am?”
Yeah. Awkward.
“Do you think he’d want to see her?” I ask Evan, thumbing toward Briar.
“It might scare him,” he states quietly. “Young children aren’t savvy with the idea of a parent, the person who’s supposed to be their rock, looking vulnerable.”
“What do I say?” I whisper. “He’ll probably ask for her, right? I mean he’s old enough to know something’s going on.”
“Say she’s sleeping. That she needs her rest.” His large hands fist and relax on his knees. “You’re really worried about this, huh?”
“A little, yeah. I’m no good with kids.”
“None of your own?” I don’t miss the curt way in which he asks the question.
“Obvious?” I smile.
He nods.
“What about you?” I say, dropping into the chair opposite his. “Any kids?”
Two can play at this game.
“A son. Just turned seven.”
Totally wasn’t prepared for that. I nod, swallowing hard as I work out the timeline. He left me nine years ago. I guess it wasn’t as hard for him to move on, then.
“They can smell fear,” he whispers conspiratorially, leaning forward for extra emphasis. “And they attack the weakest one in the pack.”
“Ha ha,” I say dryly, slightly angered at the fact he still uses jokes to diffuse awkward situations between us. Some things never change. His humour always reminded me of Dad’s lame jokes. Dad. Damn it. “I need to message my parents.”
“Go ahead.” Evan leans back, arms wide over the chair, his piercing eyes punching a hole straight through to my heart.
I won’t let him affect me. Not again. I lost myself to this man once before; he doesn’t get a second chance. Not after the mess he left me in last time.
I pull my phone out and wake the screen, praising the distraction. The battery icon flashes, reminding me I needed to charge it, and the display goes black.
“Shoot.”
“Problem?”
“My phone’s dead.”
He jerks his head toward the ward desk. “Try at the nurses’ station. They often carry chargers for most phones, just in case.”
“Really?”
“You’d be surprised how many times a phone goes flat after a long night waiting. It’s more common than you’d think.”
I glance at Briar, who stares back at me. My skin pricks with the same kind of fear I get speaking before a large crowd. He’s a kid—how bad could this really be?
“Hey.”
He continues to watch me, his hands moving slowly over the edge of the pages despite the fact he never breaks eye contact. “Hello.”
“We haven’t met,” I offer, sensing practical and straightforward is the best approach. “I’m your aunty Mimi, your mummy’s sister.”
“We have your picture at our house,” he states, eyes still fixed on my face.
My chest tightens. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Briar’s palms lay flat over the colourful pages. “On our fridge.”
Wow. Way to disable me from the start there, little guy.
“Is Mum going to get better?” He watches me without a hint of worry, or a single sign of any preconceived ideas about why he’s here with two complete strangers.
“Of course she is,” I damn near scoff. Tone it down. No need to freak him out with your awkwardness just yet.
Evan eyes us both, his gaze playing a fair game of tennis as Briar and I chat.
“She just needs to rest up for a bit, okay?”
Briar nods, his jet-black hair swishing and catching the light.
“I’m going to take care of you until she’s better.”
“At my house?”
Um. Guess I should have thought more about the fine print before starting this conversation.
“Would that be better than staying at your aunt’s?” Evan asks.
Briar nods. “Then I can play with my toys.”
“Yeah, you can,” our friendly officer says with a smile. He leans across to me and whispers. “We have her keys in the items that were recovered.”
“Oh, okay.” Why did I not think of this? Of course the kid will want to go home. He’ll need familiar things, safety, security, assurance that everything’s going to be okay, that his mum isn’t that bad at all.
He’ll need an aunt who’s the best damn liar there is.
“How do I get them?” I ask. “The keys?”
“They’re in my car.”
“You didn’t bring them up with you?”
“I wasn’t sure he had adequate supervision.”
“You wanted to scope me out first?” I snap.
“I didn’t know you were here, did I?” His eyes narrow. “Besides, it’s my job.”
I flinch. Fair enough.
“Can I get them, then? Please?”
“Sure. I’ll walk you to your car.” Evan stands, helping Briar place the toys back in the boxes.
“I didn’t drive here.” I lean down and grab the books, piling them largest to smallest.
He eyes my obsessive sorting of insignificant objects, and sighs. “Guess I’ll give you both a lift then.”
As handy as that would be, the thought of sitting in such close proximity to this ridiculously chivalrous man has me breaking out in a sweat. “It’s okay. We can take a cab.” I’ve barely managed to hold it together at arm’s length. No telling what I’d do in the confines of a car.
“Know where you’re going?”
Right. I haven’t got a clue if Kath’s still in the same suburb, let alone house. “Fine. You win.”
His lips tug up in a smirk, and as naturally as though Briar were his own child, he extends one hand to my nephew while gathering his coat and belt with the other. Briar threads his tiny fingers through Evan’s giant paw, and walks by his side toward the exit.
I hang back, taking in the sight as I will my racing heart to ease. You can do this. Evan will be on his way within the hour, and I’ll have only Briar to focus on for a day or two at most, surely. He’s a kid. Feed him, clothe him, wash him. Simple. Right?
Aw, hell. Who the fuck am I kidding?